


My Redemption

by carmshiii



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Post-Promised Day, Royai kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 20:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmshiii/pseuds/carmshiii
Summary: Pain is something she is unfortunately familiar with.





	My Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This one has been a little self-indulgent as I always love Royai kid fics so I decided that that is what I should write. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Pain is something she is unfortunately familiar with.

It is something she knew well, be it physical, mental or emotional. The repetitive jabs of the needle against her skin and the discomfort of the itchiness as the wide array were being etched onto her back. The pain of seeing the life drain out of the people she shot through the scope of her rifle. The burns inflicted against her back as if to erase the past she had because of that tattoo. The fear instilled into her after working under the watchful eye of the most powerful man in the country and his monster of a son.  
And Riza survived it. Even the ghost of the ache that still lingers years after the wound has closed and the map of scars that reminds her of the stories behind each one. Even the nightmares from the moments that hurt are still present during bad days and thunderstorm filled nights.

It is incredibly ironic though, as these memories play in her mind during her present condition.

Riza blinks sweat from her eyes and concentrates on the pain to stay conscious and not lose track of the task at hand. She takes gulps of breath, filling her lungs with sterile air and her nose with the scent of antiseptic. The pain is almost unbearable and her organs feel like it’s about to eject out from her body.  
Pressure from her lower abdomen starts to make itself known and she lets loose a horrifying scream, her body curving towards her stomach as another contraction hits. Her grip tightens as she pushed with all her might then collapse back on the table, obviously spent.

“Oh, you are not messing around.” A muffled voice, probably the doctor, says from behind the blanket covering her lower half.  
She regains her breath, tilts her head back then says, “One thing to know about me is that I do not joke around.” She briefly closes her eyes, as the pain between her legs intensifies.

“That she does not, good doctor.” Roy squeezes her hand. “Oh, look! I’ve regained the feeling of my hands.” One intense glare from her that says, if you’re not going to say anything useful, you better keep your mouth shut and based on his slightly scared expression and wide eyes, she thinks she conveyed the message well.

She has certainly done her research, diligently reading books about pregnancy during her free time, never missing the opportunities to ask questions during the appointments and talking to mothers or fellow pregnant women about their experiences. Gracia says her pregnancy was totally smooth but had warned her about the difficulty of childbirth and strenuous hours of labor. She describes endless pain and the other “joys” of childbirth. Winry, on the other hand, had difficulty with her pregnancy for the first child and as a young mother had even more difficult childbirth. The young woman said she felt a little sorry for her husband as she screamed profanities at him and he ended up just agreeing with her. But no amount of interview and books has prepared her for this.

Once again, the pain intensifies as the doctors say another contraction. Her back bows off the surface and her fist go around the back of her knees as she pushes once again, cursing loudly now. Childbirth in itself is an experience. She certainly took it for granted and after this horrendous experience is over, every mother will be seen as a hero in her eyes, more than they already are.

White spots started to appear in her vision as someone, probably Roy, was dabbing her face with a white cloth.

“Please make it stop. It hurts so bad now, make it stop.” She moans, her throat hoarse from all the screaming. Roy comes into view as her droopy eyes blink at him.  
“Come on, you can do this. You’ve come this far, Riza. He’s almost here. Please, stay awake. Please.” Roy’s grip tightens on her hand.  
She lightly scoffs at him, “Still on board with that gender are you?”

“Hey, you’re carrying him lower and you’re craving pickles, pickles all the time. Also, your feet are always tucked between mine so they’re getting cold, so it’s a boy.” Roy enumerated as if these are scientifically approved ways for prediction instead of old wives’ tales. He’s usually a man of logic, given his scientific mind. But as far as her pregnancy is concerned, all reasoning flies out the window when it comes to her husband. He’s not completely unreasonable. Just that he’s become incredibly superstitious and overprotective that it took her a lot not to punch him in the face or stomp on his foot.

She merely shook her head. “Falman really has to stop telling you these things.”

“Did the pendulum thing too-“ What he was saying was cut off by her loud screams as another contraction hit, this time it’s the voice behind the blanket that shouts “It’s crowning! It’s crowning!” that kept her going, pushing with all her might. Roy was whispering encouraging words in her ear, thanking her for this wonderful gift she's giving him. That he never thought to experience this his entire life. And that he loves her so much.

A rush of relief flooded through her body as if she pushed the baby along with all her organs out. A tense few seconds and a slap and suddenly the most beautiful sound in the entire world wailed and echoed around the room.

Her baby wailed and screamed louder than she has done in the past few hours. One of the nurses placed a swaddle of blankets in her inexperienced arms and there it is. Red-faced, with a dark patch of hair on top of the head, emitting a piercing loud cry that unbelievably came from such a small thing.  
Her reason for enduring the pain, the sleepless nights, the doubts creeping in her brain.

Her new reason to live.

“He’s so beautiful.” Roy runs his finger down the baby’s face and it is fascinating to watch as her newborn son immediately calms down and opens his eyes. Clear, brown eyes.

Her eyes.

“A he? He’s a boy?” She looks up,

There was a flurry of activity around them but the three of them existed in their small little bubble. The newborn is wailing, his cries filling the room and announcing his arrival. Riza peeled back the blanket and counted ten little fingers and toes. Honestly, she didn’t care if her child had pointed ears or tiny horns poking through his head. He is hers, whatever he looks like, he’s her son.

Staring through eyes identical to hers, for the first time in her life, she felt light. The guilt that she has been carrying for most of her life has been lifted. The fear that she may be undeserving of this kind of gift. That her hands must not be trusted with an innocent when they’re covered off the blood of the innocent that she had shot. This had left her feeling a little nervous for the last couple of weeks is gone.

Now in their own little bubble, existing in a world full of hate, distrust, and evil, in her hands the life she created. Gone is the fear and doubt and guilt.  
In its place are hope and courage. This infant in her arms is her redemption.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos and comments are always welcome


End file.
